Immigration a strong word that defines and that my family express there feelings to. At the age of 3 I was just a little girl running around the house in my dipper playing with my older brother. I do not clearly remember what happen even though I was present I had to ask my mom about it. Both of my parents migrated from Mexico to the United States when they where around 17-19 years old in 1990. My parents met in the United States a year after, my mom got pregnant by my dad and had my older brother by September 1992 and 2 years later I was born. I heard the story behind my parents struggle on how they got to where we are now but one thing that stood out the most to me was when I was 3 years old and my mom told me my dad had gone to immigration jail in Mexico. …show more content…
I had no idea what was going on in my surroundings that I remember only by being told. My dad was in the process on getting his residency when he decided to go to Mexico for his sisters wedding. He was not restricted from traveling but the thing that he did not know is that he had to do by land not air. My mom was so against this trio my dad was doing take but he still went. He decided to take a plane there and that was not a problem but when he decided to come back he was taken to immigration jail. My mom and I where expecting my dad to be back the same day, we knew nothing after he never showed
That night we were able to receive enough donations from family and friends to pay the bond and it was turned in and the guards told us my dad would be out the next morning so we waited. Yet an hour later a “Hold for immigration” notice popped next to my father’s name and they said they couldn’t do anything about it and the money would not be returned. My dad had been put on hold for immigration and at that moment I knew I might never see him again; I knew the chances of him having a normal life by our sides were very slim. I processed the information but it truly did not hit me until I was sitting there staring into the glass with my father staring right back at me.
Arriving at Tijuana we got out of the bus and the man who was going to cross me and someone else told us that we were going to need on a bench and wait for 20 minutes. After waiting 20 minutes, we started walking to the border line, the man was ahead of me, and the other person behind me.
Once the grey stormy clouds started rolling on the horizon, something was coming. The smell of smoke was in the air and the grounds started shaking. That’s when everyone started running. It was another bomb attack where all the buildings were falling and people were fleeing. With all the chaos of people trying to run with their families, leaving everything behind to get to a safe place I had to stop.
Being a child of immigrant parents has taught me so much. For example, being able to work hard for what you want. At school, I always strive to get A’s. My parent’s have taught me to never settle for anything less than a B. They know that in order for me to go to college and be successful, I not only have to get good grades but work hard to get there.
After my grandfather told me about how he migrated to the States, he continued his story by telling me when he and his parents finally made it to the states he and his parents were unable to find a place to stay, however, my great grandfather has a friend in the states that help him and his family to stay with him until my great grandfather find a stable job. It took my great grandfather months to find a job in the US due to his immigrant status and his education level, but when he finally gets a job as an office clerk. After three months being an office clerk, my great grandfather eventually can afford to rent a one-bedroom apartment. My grandfather told me how irritating he was that he has to sleep on the couch for almost four years because his
I was born in Guadalajara Jalisco and raised on a small ranch called Atemajac de Brizuela. My dad left when I was small kid, but came back when I was three years old. One year later my sister was born. Once my sister was born my dad decided to come to the United States because he knew that he had better opportunities here than in Mexico. Four years after that I came to the U.S.A at the age of nine not knowing a single word of English.
it was a decision done without my input. My mother lived in guatemala with my other 6 siblings and grandmother. She was a wealthy businesswoman. When my birth father was still alive, they were a drug dealer duo, very powerful in the country of guatemala.
Although I was born in Nevada, I left the states at three months old to China where my maternal grandparents lived. That was because my parents, as immigrants with a minimal educational background, were financially unstable and had to work, so they were not able to raise me. However, the summer before I turned 6 years old, my father brought me back to the U.S. to Los Angeles, California. By then, my parents were already divorced. I moved to Northern California where my aunt raised me in Cupertino for a majority of my elementary and middle school years.
At first I thought it was all a joke, but once I heard my mom say “You and your sister are going to Mexico” I was scared because I would hear a lot of bad things that happen there like people getting robbed,kidnapped killed etc. I told my mom that I did not wanna go but she insisted and said “You're going either way” so I had no other choice but to go along with what she said.
Visas In the book, Ask Me No Questions by Marina Budhos, the reader gets a first hand look at the importance of doing the right thing and how it can affect an entire family. The story is one of immigration and the fear of exportation. Mr. Hossain is the head of the family. He is referred to as Abba by his daughters Aisha and Nadira.
At the age of 20, I migrated from my homeland of Cuba to the United States. I was alone, as I had no family or friends to help me through the crises I will run into. Being an immigrant and not speaking English is different and has obstacles that needed to be overcome. For example, I needed to learn a new language, be educated in a new economic and educational system. In Cuba, I graduated with honors with an accounting degree, but in America I started working as a waitress in a Cuban restaurant.
The Border Both of my parents were born in and grew up in Mexico. They had a different life experiences- a whole different country with different laws and a language. My mom was born in a ranch, called El Pie de la Cuesta. In English it’s called The Foot of the Hill.
Honestly it is not an experience that I would like for anyone to have. It was at the age of 9 when I was staying at my aunts’ house because my family and I had just moved from Monterrey, Mexico that I notice some things. My aunt had remarried but this
My mother came when she was just twelve years old to join my grandfather who had been working in the United States two years prior. Both were put in this completely different world where they could barely communicate because they didn’t know the language. Life wasn’t easy for my mother and my father. Throughout my father’s teenage years, he had to work hard at school as well as have full time job to help support his family. While my mother had to take care of her younger siblings and go to school while my grandparents struggled to manage multiple jobs.
Talking to my grandmother last summer and seeing the pain she felt for being for not seeing her eldest son was tough. Ever since 1995, my father has not been able to see my grandmother. Certain little things we take for granted is what many others struggle on a daily base with. This is one of the many thing not only my father struggles with but also what millions other immigrants struggle with. He drives with fear everyday knowing that his fate could be similar to the hundreds of family separated .